


One Year (The Two Girls Remix)

by sophinisba



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Female Friendship, Gen, Master/Servant, Paganism, Pre-Canon, Remix
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-13
Updated: 2012-05-13
Packaged: 2017-11-05 06:31:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,400
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/403413
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sophinisba/pseuds/sophinisba
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>During her first year as Morgana's maid, Gwen finds out she doesn't have to be alone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	One Year (The Two Girls Remix)

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [One Year](https://archiveofourown.org/works/166913) by [wintercreek](https://archiveofourown.org/users/wintercreek/pseuds/wintercreek). 



> Written for [Reverse Remix, The Comment Edition](http://bessemerprocess.dreamwidth.org/213373.html) at bessemerprocess's journal. Read wintercreek's original, it's so good!!!

"Tell me, Gwen, are there folk in Camelot that still light the fires at Beltane?"

Gwen hesitated, bowing her head. "It's forbidden, my lady."

"Well obviously. That's why I said _still_. I watched for them last year and there was nothing, only a feast at Midsummer and another at Midwinter, but surely there must - Oh, but Gwen, you can't think I'm asking because I'm on Uther's side in this. You can't think I want to turn them in!"

"Of course not, my lady," said Gwen, who had entertained the thought, although not seriously.

"No one else talks to me, not the truth anyway. I know we haven't known each other for very long, but I thought you trusted me," said Morgana, beginning to pout.

"It's not that, it's...well, it's not talked about openly. And I've never been, myself. My dad says we used to have it here in the town, back before I was born, but of course there's no more of that now."

"Right. I noticed that, as I said. But we're not out in the open now, are we? We're just two girls talking in my bedroom. And I wanted to know whether there are people who still celebrate it. You haven't answered.

"There's a village," Gwen said softly, with her heart pounding, her eyes downcast. "It's not far out, you could get there by foot -" And then she bit her lip, because it _wasn't_ far, only a mile's walk, Elyan said, but now come to think of it Gwen wasn't sure if noblewomen were meant to walk that far. And of course she wasn't going to tell her mistress, _the king's ward_ , that Gwen's own brother had disobeyed the king by going out to the celebrations there last year. Everyone in the lower town had said Gwen would be good at this job because she was so sweet, and such a good seamstress, and helped keep her father's house so tidy; nobody warned her she'd have to _talk_ so much, or that talking would become so difficult. 

"What I mean is, it's -"

"Would you show me, Gwen?" said Morgana, startling her with the directness of her words and a sudden strong grip on her wrist. "Would you go with me?"

"Of course," said Gwen, before her good sense could stop her.

* * *

It wasn't that Gwen thought the Lady Morgana would take note of the revellers' names and report them to the king. Just the opposite, really - she suspected that Morgana only wanted to go to the Beltane fires as escape from the castle and a way of defying Uther. But she couldn't fault her for that, and she certainly couldn't refuse her.

Morgana brought Gwen a bright colored dress and ribbons for her hair. She wore a similar simple gown herself so she wouldn't stand out among the common folk. The two of them kept to the edges of the festival at Weston, drank only a little, and did not try to jump the fire. But on the way back to the castle they laughed and held hands. Gwen still didn't think Morgana had any reverence for the old ways or the old gods, but she felt lighter now, closer, and almost as if they _were_ just two girls out for a walk at night, and not a servant accompanying her mistress because she'd been told to.

* * *

Part of Gwen's job was to serve at the Midsummer feast, but Morgana pulled her away and into the dancing. Would people notice? Would her job be in danger? But soon enough she was too dizzy with the spinning and the heat and the nearness of Morgana to go on worrying.

* * *

That first summer that Gwen worked in the castle was when Morgana started having nightmares. Up until then she'd slept in her father's house, but now it was determined she should stay in Morgana's rooms and be there to tend to her when she woke up screaming, drenched in sweat. Gwen missed her father and was as terrified as Morgana every time they woke up together. How was she to know what to do? She was just a girl herself. Still, she did like spending the days with her. There wasn't a lot for two girls to do, and in the summer heat the easiest thing was to sit and talk in Morgana's rooms, where they could lie on the floor in nothing but their nightgowns, and no one else would have to know. Some days Gwen wouldn't leave at all, except to fetch their meals fro the kitchens.

On the first morning of August Morgana broke the loaf of bread Gwen had brought her, and said, "It's nothing special here, is it?"

"What's that?" said Gwen, who'd got so used to sharing Morgana's food in the last month that she didn't hesitate to take the piece of bread Morgana was handing her now.

"At home the vassals used to bring a share of the first harvest of wheat to my father's castle. It was how they'd renew their oaths of loyalty every year."

"I don't _think_ we have that," Gwen said, "but I don't know much about how it is in the country. My dad's always lived here in the town. My mum grew up in the village but I never knew her, I was so small when she died."

"I never knew mine either," said Morgana, and for the first time in some weeks the silence fell heavy between them, as Gwen thought of how much she loved her father and how lost she'd be without him, and cursed herself for being so clumsy as to bring up the subject of dead parents with Morgana.

"It was never a great feast like at Midsummer," Morgana said after some time, "just a simple ritual. But I always thought he looked so regal and good when he took the tribute from them and promised his protection in return. I wanted to be just like that when I grew up. But it seems that isn't what I was destined to do."

* * *

Arthur was the one to suggest to his father that, even though it wasn't safe for Morgana herself to travel to her father's home, she could send a messenger with her good wishes for the people during the harvest season. The messenger came back with sweet dried fruits and cakes Morgana hadn't eaten in two years, and that Gwen never had. He also brought fine dyed wool. That was when Morgana started teaching Gwen how to weave, and Gwen started wondering what she could make to give to Morgana at Yule, when Morgana already had everything.

* * *

Gwen was the one to bring the candle to Morgana's rooms at Samhain, the one to say, "I thought we could, for your father," without being able to finish the sentence. Morgana was the one to carve Gorlois's name into the wax and to light the flame. She spoke to him for a long time while Gwen sat silent at her side, and then she turned to Gwen and said simply, "Thank you."

Gwen never hesitated to speak to Morgana after that, or to share what little she knew of the old ways. They observed Yule and most of the festival days with a quiet moment or a meal together, but they always went out to Weston at Beltane, and as they grew older and bolder they took to jumping the fires together like a couple of lovers, always laughing.

* * *

The spring that Merlin came to the castle, Gwen knew her world was changing and suspected it was for the worse. Morgana's nightmares were more violent than ever and so were Uther's tirades. The executions in the courtyard had not been so frequent since Gwen was a little girl.

But she sat in the garden and helped her new friend plant new seeds, and his fingers were gentle in the dirt and when they touched hers. There was no doubt in her mind that he'd join them on their next outing to Weston, the three of them hand in hand, with flowers in their hair.

Perhaps one day things would be different. They wouldn't have to leave their home to honour the earth, and Arthur (King Arthur, a voice whispered in her head) would join them at the fires. Perhaps, Gwen dared to hope, the world was turning into a brighter day.


End file.
